


Beronica One-Shots

by bigchickcannibalistic



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10903242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigchickcannibalistic/pseuds/bigchickcannibalistic
Summary: A collection of random (mostly short) beronica fics just to get myself to write.





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Anonymous  asked:**

**beronica prompt - adopting an animal together**

 

\---------

The first time Veronica meets Lynn, she’s dead to the world and has been resurrected as a zombie just by the sound of professor Elengmayer’s shouts. He’s good at what he does, but a 3-hour lecture that starts at 6 at night isn’t how she wants her Thursdays to go.

How she wants them to go involve her very lovely girlfriend, a lot of sugary confections, ignoring the rest of the world, and possibly a movie but doesn’t exclude a lot of cuddling and making out.

But what she gets is a blob of grey and white as she enters their apartment, coiled up like those old spring toys you’d wobble and wiggle in your hands. Green eyes stare up and her in wonder, but Veronica blinks and the blob is gone, the sound of hasty footfalls trailing after it. Veronica just stands there for a moment, to make sure she didn’t hallucinate their neighbour’s cat in the middle of their apartment.

(She didn’t let her in, did she? No, the hallway was distinctly meow-free and as empty as it’s ever been at this hour on a Thursday.)

She’s still mulling it over – she’s tired okay, and the world’s walking that delicate line between reality and dream-land and – there you go, now she’s lost her trail of thought. And that’s not because she sees Betty in the kitchen and makes a beeline for her; definitely not because Betty knows instinctually when Veronica’s near and opens her arms for a long hug; definitely not because as soon as Veronica’s buried her nose into Betty’s shoulder she feels a whispered _“You’re home.”_

She remembers her dilemma when said dilemma starts meowing from the counter, all high and needy in true Lynn fashion.

“Why is our neighbour’s cat here?” Veronica grumbles as she untangles from Betty.

“Lynn snuck on our balcony –”

“Again?” Veronica interrupts, glaring at the cat who looks too pleased with herself.

“Yeah,” Betty chuckles in that fond way she gets. “Well I tried knocking and no one was there so.” Betty shrugs when Veronica gives her a side glance, looking as helpless and she is tired.

“Let’s hope it’s soon, hm?” Veronica says, not too pleased with the situation, but she does scratch Lynn’s head on her way out of the kitchen.

The neighbours knock not an hour later, apologising profusely.

\---------

When she wakes up, finally having the possibility to sleep in since half of her professors are on a conference, Veronica doesn’t expect to turn around and collide with fur. Spluttering, she pushes herself back so viciously she nearly falls off bed, while Lynn just propels out of bed and out the door.

As she’s waking up, Veronica recalls hearing Betty’s voice amidst her dream counterpart, recalls her saying something about a cat and a door and not freaking out. In hindsight it is an odd thing to say while flirting, Veronica admits but the dream was too good to get into the semantics of it.

And Veronica should probably go and return the cat, what with Betty already gone, whisked away to her morning classes. But that involves actually catching the little speed demon. Her hands sting with phantom pain just thinking about it. Well, she decides, there will be no caching until after coffee.

In the midst of making coffee, Veronica hears pitiful whines from somewhere in their tiny living room. Veronica ignores them furiously, still remembering all the times Lynn would whine when she came across her or Betty eating. (Somewhere among the jumble that is her non-caffeinated mind, sparks the worry over how frequent that sight it.)

But as the whining continues, Veronica reluctantly (with a lot of grumbling) departs from her fresh cup of coffee to go and see what Lynn’s gotten herself into. With the way her grey stripped tail is sticking between the couch cushions, it’s a safe bet to say Lynn’s gotten into the couch.

Veronica doesn’t expect a thank you after she lets the cat out of the couch. But that doesn’t stop her from offering an irritated _“You’re welcome.”_ She watches as Lynn scurries off toward the kitchen, brow raised and wondering what the cat’s master plan is now.

Then she remembers the abandoned cup.

“Not my coffee you little shit!”

\------

Veronica’s passed the point of her brain leaving. Like she’s passed it some two hours ago, much like the rest of the people around her, but the professor just keeps. Going. There are rumours that two students stormed in during one of his lectures and held an impromptu fencing match, and the man just continued teaching despite of it.

_Maybe he’s a robot._

And that’s how she spends another 15 minutes trying to find out all the quirks a robot would have. Thankfully (blessedly) she’s interrupted by a message from Betty, who Veronica specifically didn’t pest so she could study in peace.

But if the picture of herself and Lynn perched on her shoulder, head leaned forward to inspect all the books on Betty’s table is anything to go by, Betty’s having difficulty studying. Despite all of this Betty’s smiling, and it never fails to draw out one from Veronica.

She still sends her a _go back to studying_ text because Veronica Lodge is nothing if not a responsible, considerate girlfriend.

(And she shall bear the brunt of the sad smiley face Betty sends. But the sad picture with Lynn covering most of it nearly breaks her resolve.)

\------

“Betty, Lynn’s in the washing machine again.”

“Please tell me she didn’t pee this time,” Betty shouts from the kitchen.

Veronica moves as close as she dares before Lynn swipes at her with a paw. She gives her a glare, fingers twitching on the machine door, contemplating just trapping the cat for a while – nothing drastic, okay, she’s not a monster.

“Not this time. But she is stuck in your ‘Roll For Initiative’ shirt.” Veronica raises her brows in challenge at the cat, a smirk growing as Lynn tries to untangle herself from the shirt and leave. She fails at both when Betty pokes her head into the bathroom.

“Goddammit cat.”

\-----

When it happens, Veronica can’t say she didn’t expect it. After all with Betty having as big as heart as they come when it comes to animals, and Lynn has been dropping by so often they went out and bought her food and a bowl and Veronica noticed that old basket in the corner of the bathroom, okay, you’re fooling no one Betty Cooper.

And okay maybe the little shit that gets into everything and constantly tangles into Veronica’s clothes and is just as likely to swipe at you as she is to thank you – _ahem_. Yeah, so maybe she’s growing on Veronica.

So when one of their neighbours shows up with Lynn scooped up under her arm and saying they’re moving and can’t keep her, Veronica sees the exact moment when Betty’s hooked, when she’s decided that yeah they’re keeping Lynn. And honestly, Veronica couldn’t say no to Betty, let alone to Betty holding a cute cat and giving her the _look._

And of course the first thing Lynn does while the two of them are sorting out the cat’s things is to jump into the (thankfully empty) washing machine.

 


	2. What’s with the box?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found this unfinished on my drive.
> 
> Inspired by a headcanon from tumblr (forgot whose tho, sorry!)

Veronica finds it by accident.

They’re supposed to go out – and with Riverdale being _Riverdale_ that basically means they’re either a) going to the one bar in town or b) going to the drive-in. And it’s telling of the state of that one bar that Veronica already has several plans on how to persuade her friends to go to the drive-in. (Which has nothing to do with the possibility of cuddling close to Betty without hiding it behind half-formed excuses.)

(She’s not being giddy about it, Cheryl, shut up.)

But Betty – sweet, lovely, workaholic Betty – has pulled one too many all-nighters the past week, though if Veronica looked at their late night call history and scoured through their texts she’d note that it started way before that, lasted longer than a week. In any case, all of those all-nighters decided to catch up with her today.

It’s why Polly’s the one to open the door with a curious look; it’s why Betty’s staring blearily at Veronica from where she fell asleep with her nephew in her lap – and no Veronica will not let her mind wander down the path that starts with _holy shit what’s more adorable_ and ends with her making the dopiest of smiles just to keep herself in check. Because she’s temped to stay there. To toss the idea of going out into Sweetwater river and just cuddle close to Betty and little Nathan.

Thankfully (sadly) Betty saves her from the temptation, jumping to her feet and scouring to get ready, throwing apologies one after the other and Veronica quells them one after the other.

She finds it by accident, looking beneath Betty’s bed for the shoes – _“I know I tossed them somewhere in the room.”_ Veronica knows which shoes Betty’s talking about, just how she also knows Betty was drunk that night, an odd sight to behold, Betty giggling with an abundance of energy and restlessness in one moment, melancholic and thoughtful the next. Veronica was hesitant to leave her that night, stayed long after Betty calmed and fell asleep.

She finds the shoes after the fourth blind swipe, thankful for Alice Cooper’s tick for meticulous cleaning; finds them once her fingers tangle in straps and pull, dragging one shoe. With another two swipes and a curse that would make her mother tsk she drags the other out – along with a smaller box.

Veronica doesn’t open it. Peers at it curiously, turns it this way and that in her hands, fits her fingers delicately over the blemishes on the wood, but she doesn’t open it. Old Veronica might’ve (would’ve) in a heartbeat and without a care. But that’s the difference, _this_ Veronica cares, (especially if it’s anything to do with Betty Cooper); _this_ Veronica wouldn’t take take take with a wicked smile, consequences be damned. She wouldn’t because it’s not hers, she’s not entitled to anything, she’s not her _father._

(And her stomach churns. How the line _she’s not her father_ had become something of a daily mantra, something she sees whenever her mother smiles indulgently, thinks about it whenever Smithers brings her friends up to the apartment. How the line has to be thought at all, how she was wrong, so wrong about him for so long.)

She doesn’t take. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t wonder.

So she’s sitting there, shoes in her lap and cradling the box, as if she’s trying to figure out a puzzle. It’s how Betty finds her once she’s back from the bathroom, hair blessedly free from her ponytail and looking as beautiful as Veronica’s ever seen her. Veronica forgets about the box until Betty bends down to pick it up.

“What’s with the box, Betts?” Despite Veronica’s mind tumbling down into the nook that is just for Betty, Veronica has seen the flash of panic before Betty scooped up both the box and shoes.

“Oh you know. Just some childhood trinkets,” Betty says, and the way she’s quickly putting on her shoes make it clear that’s the end of it. Veronica’s all right to leave it at that.

Still part of her wonders about it, about the things rattling inside when she turned the box over, about how quickly Betty dismissed the subject.

But they reach the drive-in and she forgets about it, too focused on Betty and all the places they’re touching.

\------

Veronica doesn’t find the box again the next time she’s over at the Coopers.

(Yes she is looking for it. The wondering has become a constant prick at the back of her mind, and some nights it’s burrowed into her dreams and she’s _this_ close to sending a text to Betty to ask about it.)

(She almost did last Friday, has written up the text before she came to her senses and deleted it altogether.)

Betty’s no doubt hidden it, and it picks at Veronica’s heart, makes her frown unevenly, because she doesn’t want Betty to feel like she should hide things from her, childhood trinkets or otherwise.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Veronica asks while they’re watching a movie, splayed over Betty’s bed, with Veronica’s head in Betty’s lap, and the blonde dragging her fingers through her hair.

“Of course I do, V.” Betty’s fingers still, but Veronica stubbornly keeps her eyes on the laptop screen, even when Betty hums in question. “What brought this on?”

_The fear that my curiosity might’ve somehow telepathically gotten to you and made you hide away a piece of yourself._

“Oh nothing. Just movie plots revolving about miscommunication are getting to me.”

“You know what that calls for?”

Veronica groans, turning over to the impish smile on Betty’s face, to the look that spells trouble and underlining promises. And oh doesn’t she want to snatch away those promises?

“Romcoms?” Veronica asks but doesn’t really have to. There’s a mild tilt in Betty’s head, a shine in her eyes that basically screams _romcoms_. ( _“Oh please, if I have a romcoms face, you have a get milkshakes face.”_ )

“Comedic romcoms,” Betty states proudly, her ponytail doing a little jump with the movement.

\-----------

Veronica lasts another three days before she’s tempted to ask about the box.

It’s stupid how the thing keeps poking back into her mind, how it riles up her curiosity and just refuses to vanish no matter how much she shoves it down. And she is shoving it down, biting her lip to not blurt out the question, being exceptionally focused on other things.

And that’s kinda hard to do once you’re bedridden and slowly dying because of your period. And she doesn’t even have her mother to wail and whine to, since it is a workday and she does, y’know, have to work and _fine, leave your daughter to die._

(“You say that every time, mija, and still you survive,” her mother points out, not bothering to hide the smile. Veronica still rolls over and buries her face in the pillows, groaning not unlike how she imagines a fiend from hell does. Or a very large bear.

Or both, both are good.)

Smithers pokes his head from time to time, mostly to make sure she’s eaten and to get her more sweets. He’s kind enough to only make small faces at Veronica’s choice of shows to comfort marathon.

Then mercifully, as if summoned from the heavens above, Betty shows up looking like an angel that she is, with yet more comfort food and –

And that stupid, puzzling wooden box.

“All right, what is with that box?” Veronica blurts out, faster than her mind can comprehend what’s happening. Betty walks in, giving Veronica a puzzled look. “Like I know you said it’s childhood trinkets, but you said it like how people say _it’s nothing_ when it’s clearly something. And I didn’t wanna poke about it but it’s been bothering me, so I’m poking about it now, okay?”

Somewhere in the middle of her rant, Betty laughs – well coughs, then it turns into a broken laugh that flows into several, less choppy ones. Now that doesn’t make Veronica cross her arms, certainly doesn’t make her pout childishly, doesn’t make her wander to Betty until the blonde can see her pout and give her one of her adorable smiles.

It doesn’t. (Though at the sight of that smile she’d say her crops re flourishing, her skin’s cleared, her problems are solved.)

“Well,” Betty starts, looking down at the box on the kitchen counter. “I may have lied. Just a tiniest bit.”

Veronica blinks, flabbergasted. Then she sighs dramatically, leaning on the counter (because she really does need to), hand going to her forehead. Ste starts with _“My own best friend,”_ before Betty interrupts her with a swipe at her shoulder.

“Oh stop it. How else am I supposed to keep a surprise a surprise?”

“A surprise?” Veronica cracks open an eye at that. Betty nods, and Veronica drops her act. “Well I suppose I could overlook this breach in best friend etiquette.”

“Too kind,” Betty says, but she nudges the box closer to Veronica. Her fingers are tapping the counter, clear sign that she’s nervous. Veronica tilts her head, bangs partially obscuring Betty. She takes the box only after Betty nods at it with a smile.

“I was going to give it to you sooner but I had unexpected expenses and fixing these things is actually hard. Who’d think, right?”

Veronica might’ve said yes. If she were listening. Y’know it’s kinda hard to listen when she’s staring down at the box, at the pearl necklace inside – the one she distinctly remembers breaking in the bathroom that fateful day, the day she swore off her father, the day she crumbled and Betty was there with open arms.

And now it’s whole again, almost like the day they were bought, save for the few scratches here and there. And – and oh, shit Veronica might start crying. She can feel it bubbling to the surface, up the back of her throat.

“I know they meant a lot to you. Mean a lot.”

Veronica cuts her off then, throws caution to out the window (frighteningly easily) and thinks _fuck it_ to all the voice in her head telling her _Veronica no_ , and she pulls Betty in a kiss because a simple thank you can’t convey everything she’s feeling right now.

It takes a moment for Betty to react, but when she does, she’s kissing back, arms wrapped around Veronica, and she can’t remember ever feeling her chest practically burst with joy.

“I love it,” Veronica says after the break apart, right before Betty trails after her, seeking another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send me prompts @ bighchickcannibalistic.tumblr.com
> 
> No promises when they'll get done tho.


End file.
